


Wayside Amber

by coffee_couture



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Gen, I swear I'll write monsters eventually, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It's not what they asked for but hey its lore, My GM asked for more Coy lore so here it is, Not Beta Read, Other, Recreational Drug Use, for now take this hot garbage, its impressionism but in writing, just written to get a feel for the character, sorry I'm bad at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25460299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_couture/pseuds/coffee_couture
Summary: The three times Coy Orville saw a flower, and the one time he didn’t.





	Wayside Amber

The earliest point Coy could remember the flowers was when he was eight. He lived in a small neighborhood and she had them growing all over her house. She scared him, but the flowers were beautiful. One day he was walking past and she caught his eye, he was trapped and she approached the gate, but did not cross it. 

“Morning,” He said. Just because he was scared didn’t mean that he would forget his manners.

“Good morning,” She said, standing by the gate and removing her gardening gloves. “Lovely weather we’re having.”

And she had trapped him. He was now required to have a conversation, otherwise it would be rude. “It’s alright. Wish it was warmer so I could go swimming.” 

“The river is high this year, you should be careful.” Her eyes squinted softly. 

“I’m a strong swimmer. Have to be if I’m going to be an astronaut,” He shifted a bit onto his other foot. “I’m Coy, I live down the street.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you and your friends play down the lane.” She looked inquisitively at him. “Why are you here?”

Coy shuffled a bit more, less trapped and more embarrassed. “I slow down… to look at your flowers.”

“My flowers?”

“Yeah,” Coy answered. “Boys aren’t really supposed to like flowers, but I think they’re neat. And they smell good.” She smiled at his response and leaned against the gate. 

“I like them too. They’re called Wayside Amber and I use them for spells.” She smiled, a glint in her eye. 

“So it’s true. You ARE a witch.” Coy blurted. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth, immediately ashamed. “Sorry! My mom said I’m not supposed to say things like that about other people.” 

“Well, gossiping isn’t too bad if it isn’t mean. And it’s true, I’m definitely a witch.”

“I knew it!” Coy grinned, and then looked curious, eyes peering. “But I thought witches were supposed to be old and mean. You don’t seem old or mean?” 

“Well not all witches are mean, but I will get old one day.” She said as she put her gardening gloves back on. She grabbed a pair of cutting shears and clipped off a flower. “Here, feel free to come back and talk with me anytime. If you’re looking to make some money, I can always use help doing yardwork, that is, if you don’t mind helping an old witch.” 

Coy took the flower and smiled. “I can’t mow the lawn yet, Dad says I’m not big enough, but I can help with other things. What do you need done?” 

“Come on in, I will call your mom and tell her you’re helping me out.” She opened the gate to him, “We’re going to trim down some of these flowers and then you can help me eat some fresh cookies.” 

“Okay!” Coy put the flower in his buttonhole, replacing the button that had gone missing that morning. “I can help.” 

The witch smiled. “I know you can. You can call me Lillith.”

* * *

The second time of note that Coy saw the flowers was Christmas day. He and Angie had just had a fight and he was outside on the porch, smoking a cigarette. He was moving away from home, she wanted him to stay and he didn’t have the guts to tell her he wasn’t into her. Not into any girls, actually. 

He leaned against the railing, watching as the first snow fell. Flakes drifting lazily down into the shrubs under the railing. He recognized the flower, fuck, what were they called again? Amber, Wayside Amber. Mock Appattacia. It seemed a bit cold for such a pretty flower. He watched the plant for a bit, snowflakes dancing daintily to a stop on the soft pale petals. 

One last inhale, exhale. He put out the cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray that sat vicariously on the edge. It would be the last time he smoked on this porch. He wouldn’t miss it. He had kissed his first girl on this porch, after their first date. She had smiled, hair mussed and in her eyes. He had also kissed his first boy on this porch. Angie’s 18th birthday party, her brother had snuck them beer and Coy decided to push his limits. After wandering outside for a smoke he had run into him and decided to show some gratitude. Angie never did find out. Never would’ve suspected it, Coy thought he was going to marry her until that had happened. 

It was freezing, the weight of memories and his own breath seemed thick. He was ready to move on. 

Coy took off his jacket and rested it gently atop the flowers, hopefully sheltering them from the freezing winter and walked home.

* * *

The third time Coy saw the flower was while he was in the hospital. Ethan had just been admitted, the third time this year. He sat in the waiting room, waiting for a verdict. They had broken up months ago, but Coy was still his ICE contact. He didn’t mind. Most of the people in Ethan’s life weren’t very reliable. 

There was a vase of flowers on the table in the waiting room. They smelled wonderful. Nostalgic. The base of the flowers had little roots growing out of them, Coy was debating taking one home to plant in his flowerbed. 

His phone rang. Caller ID: Mom. He had told her where he was. He answered.

“Hello.”

“Hey, sweetie. How’re you doing?” She asked, softly.

“I’m doing okay. It’s not my first time being here.” Coy’s vision went up the stalk of the plant. It’s stem was woody, but still a dark green.

“Well, hon, I am sure it will turn out okay.” 

“Me too.” 

“Are you still moving back to help Gran?” She asked. Straight to the point. He sighed.

“Yeah… I mean the ticket home is non-refundable and I’m already signed up for classes at the JC.” Coy said, eyes dragging slowly to the base of the flower. A nurse walked in and motioned to him. “Look mom, the nurse is flagging me down, I got to go.” And he hung up. 

The nurse came up, face set in a grim line. Coy rolled his shoulders, took a big breath, and braced for bad news.

* * *

It was the day of his grandma’s funeral. Coy hadn’t smoked in months. He was debating running to the corner-mart for cigarettes. His eyes felt puffy. 

It was an open casket. So many people had offered him condolences. Too many. He didn’t know this many people had even known his grandma. She had been an influential member of the community, a troublemaker and well loved by so many. It all felt wrong. 

He looked up at the stained glass of the chapel. The sun shone through, making a dazzling picture of the surrounding room. It was idyllic, but it felt off. The flowers were wrong. Coy’s gran had loved wildflowers. The type of things you would find in a meadow, not the stiffly arranged lilies and orchids his mother had picked out. 

He wanted to be in a meadow right now. It felt more appropriate than this sterile and clean building. She was gone, he was still there. He had spent the last two years with her, making sure that she was comfortable and happy to the very end. 

He felt that maybe it was time to do the same for himself. He had earned a certification program and a two year degree in field biology, as encouraged by her. He already had a job lined up in a small town far enough away that maybe he could grieve in peace. He would leave that afternoon. 

The last guests started to leave to the reception that Coy had decided not to attend. The funeral coordinators gave him a moment and he finally approached his Gran. He was going to miss the burial, but he didn’t really care. He had said his goodbyes. 

He looked down at her, eyes closed and hands folded neatly. She looked nicer than he had ever seen her in life and he smiled wryly. He took the dried flowers in his buttonhole, preserved just for this purpose a few months ago, and placed them on her chest, a wayside amber bloom still fragrant even in death as the centerpiece. They had been her favorite, and they remained his. 

He bowed his head, tears rushing his eyes as he said his final goodbyes, turned heel and left for his next adventure. He had the strangest feeling that he may never see his home town again, and unfortunately he was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Coy's story is one I'm constantly working on both in and out of game. I reference one of my other fics in this one. If you want more detail on some high school drama, check out Crooked Smile. Fics now include Horizontal lines (Woo!).


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